


80th and Broadway

by daxsymbiont



Category: Saturday Night Live
Genre: Family, Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, Judaism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 18:31:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1575314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daxsymbiont/pseuds/daxsymbiont
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seth has a minor freakout. Stefon is a fan of ball pits. Jacob tells us about Passover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	80th and Broadway

“He – effectively fired our last two babysitters,” says Seth's podiatrist on the phone.

Seth blinks. “I'm sorry, what?” He covers his non-phone ear with his hand, because Stefon is playing something that sounds like a remix of Ke$ha and a group of dying cats.

Dr. Leventhal's voice is suffused with embarrassment. “It's too complicated to explain over the phone. Could you just – take him for part of the weekend, please? Our tickets have been booked for months. And he likes you so much. He keeps asking when he'll get to see you again. Seth, come on, as a favor. Your next appointment free. I've been killing myself trying to find someone who doesn't scare him to death.”

“He likes me?” says Seth, bewildered. 

“Good,” says Dr. Leventhal. “Then it's settled. You can pick him up at ten on Sunday.”

Seth puts the phone down, feeling rather like he's been run through a cheese grater. Well, next appointment free. That's something. He stares idly out the window, elbows rested on his desk, and tries to think of ways to entertain Jacob that don't involve renting out Yankee stadium.

Stefon comes up behind him and rests his chin on Seth's shoulder. The music has been turned down. “Hi,” says Stefon. 

“Hi.”

Stefon pokes his nose into Seth's neck, and Seth kind of shivers. “Who was that?” says Stefon.

Seth fiddles with a paperweight lying on his desk. “Oh, that was – that was Jacob's dad. He was just wondering if we – I, if _I_ could take care of Jacob for a few hours on Sunday.”

Stefon springs up, hands flying to his mouth, and bounces in place beside Seth's chair. “Jacob's coming here? Ohmygosh, Seth Meyers.” He clasps his hands in front of him, face shining with barely repressed glee. “We have to do _everything_.” 

“Stefon, no – no.” Seth can sense Stefon's instant pout before he sees it, and he reaches out and lays a hand on Stefon's arm. “How do I explain this. Um. Jacob is kind of a sensitive little boy. He might not be – amenable to the kind of activities you suggest.”

“Well, _I'm_ sensitive,” says Stefon. “And _you're_ amenable.” 

“I – yeah.” Seth can't actually think of a good argument against that. All he knows is there's a sickening twist in his gut that won't go away, ever since Dr. Leventhal called. And a nervous flutter in his heart. Not the good kind of flutter, the bad kind. Like an arrhythmia. He should get that checked out.

“I'll be _good_ ,” says Stefon, and rolls his eyes in a very exaggerated manner that indicates he thinks the concept is ridiculous. He stands there with his eyes still rolled upward and his arms crossed, the picture of dismissiveness. 

Seth laughs. “Yeah, okay. Okay, I get it.” He catches Stefon's eye, just for a second, to let him know he's serious. “I guess I have some – issues about – ” He shakes his head, holds out a hand to Stefon and Stefon plays with it, shaking it back and forth. “I'll deal with it,” says Seth.

“Seth Meyers has _many_ issues,” says Stefon dramatically, and slinks off to the couch to turn up the music again. He flops down and raises his eyebrows at Seth from across the room.

“Hey,” says Seth, in mock protest, but he grabs his notepad and goes over to sit next to his husband, who promptly drapes himself all over Seth like an octopus or a caftan.

\--- 

Seth calls Poehler that night, because that seems to be his go-to tactic in times like this. 

“What is it,” she says tiredly, as Seth peers around the corner into their bedroom to make sure Stefon is asleep. (He's recharging. It's a Wednesday. Stefon operates on a very strict schedule.)

“Okay,” says Seth, and he goes to perch on a chair in the kitchen. He has to go to work in, like, an hour. “So you know Jacob? The bar mitzvah boy? He's on Update sometimes – ”

“Oh, yeah, that kid!” Amy perks up. “Yeah, I remember him. Kind of a weirdo, but then, who isn't.”

“Right,” says Seth. “Look, um – Stefon and I are supposed to, I mean, _I'm_ supposed to babysit him this weekend, for like half a day, and I'm kind of freaking out.” 

There is silence on the other end. Seth checks to make sure the connection hasn't dropped.

“Uh, _why_?” says Amy finally. She sounds bemused, in a way that instantly annoys Seth. “I'm pretty sure he worships the ground you walk on, and you know, Stefon can teach him to have a little fun maybe.”

Seth blows out a breath; that feeling is settling in his torso again, like his organs are sinking into quicksand. “Um. Yeah. That's not. The problem, I mean, look, the problem is, I'm not sure Leventhal watches Update. I know he tapes Jacob's segments for later, but...”

He manages to get it out, in fits and starts. It sounds silly, spoken aloud. Jacob's been on the show since Seth and Stefon got married, but it's not like Seth and his podiatrist are _close_ and Seth is pretty sure Jacob's dad has no idea he's married to a man. Living with a man. Like, sharing a bed with a man. Who wears glitter Uggs and guyliner. Et cetera. Dr. Leventhal probably still thinks that Seth is a nice, normal guy, with a long-term serious girlfriend and a 401(k). 

Well, not that he _isn't_ nice and normal. Or that Stefon has impacted his retirement savings, yet – shit, he has to make adjustments. Seth scribbles down a note to call the bank.

Amy sighs, heavily so that he's sure to hear it over the phone, and Seth says, “What?” 

“Stefon's a _nice_ guy,” she says. “A little – feline, at times, sure, but he's a good person. He's not going to teach Jacob how to pick up guys in bars.”

“Oh my God,” says Seth, heart racing, because he hadn't thought of that. 

“Seth!” says Amy. It's very loud, and Seth almost jumps. “Could you excuse me for just one second?”

“Uh, sure,” says Seth. 

There's a rustling on the line, and then a loud clapping sound, so hard and sharp it stings Seth's eardrums. Amy must have put down the phone; he hears her pick it up again. “That,” she says, “was me slapping you in the face, because you are a giant wimp, and you need a reality check.”

“Oh,” says Seth, taken aback. “Thanks.” 

“You're welcome,” says Amy, sounding entirely too smug. “Feel free to call me anytime.”

\---

He understands her point. He understands Stefon's point – or, well, whatever points Stefon might be making with his flicks and wriggles and other subtle arguments in body language. Seth is a modern New York City guy, with liberal values, and he gets what they're trying to tell him. He was raised in the 'Live Free or Die' state, for God's sake. He's not – _whatever_. 

Nonetheless, the closer it gets to Sunday, the more Seth finds himself fretting and pondering. It's not on purpose. It's like an itch he can't help but scratch.

“He's very 80th and Broadway,” says Stefon on Thursday night. He's curled up in Seth's armchair, idly flipping through a magazine. 

“Who?” says Seth, and then it clicks in his brain. “Jacob?”

“Yeah,” says Stefon.

Seth traces over a map of Manhattan in his head. “That's Zabar's. That's where Zabar's is.”

“I know,” Stefon says coolly. He shoots Seth a mysterious, superior smile before going back to his reading.

\---

Friday morning, Stefon is hunched eagerly over the computer. “I'm making a list of family-friendly clubs where we can take Jacob,” he explains. He types with two fingers, pecking away at the keyboard in a font that looks like it was designed by zombies.

Seth shakes his head. “Stefon, _none_ of your clubs are family-friendly.”

“I try to _tell_ you,” says Stefon, and pouts over his shoulder at Seth. “They totally are. Plenty of them have children there.”

“But they're – ” Seth closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, willing himself not to lose it. “There's alcohol there, and drugs! And – and, and midgets dressed as weird stuff!”

“What,” says Stefon, “you think midgets don't have children?”

Seth opens his mouth. Closes it. Hems and haws and stops. Shit. 

“There's an entire childcare section at _Spicy_ ,” Stefon continues. “For the performers' kids. They have a ball pit. It's _amazing_.” 

Seth rests his hands on Stefon's shoulders. “They let you in the ball pit?”

“Yeah,” says Stefon, shrugging and leaning his head back onto Seth's chest. “I'm over the height limit, but they made an exception.”

Seth strokes a finger down Stefon's cheek, over his neck, his collarbones. He suddenly wants to touch Stefon all over and hold him incredibly tightly and it's embarrassing and he's not sure why. Stefon sighs and purrs against him – probably getting hair gel all over Seth's shirt, but who cares.

Seth leans down and drops a kiss on the top of Stefon's head. “I love you,” he murmurs, before he can chicken out. 

Stefon reaches up to grasp Seth's hand. “I love you too. Seth Meyers.” 

\---

Seth remembers at Night of Too Many Stars, before they were together – when they were a thing, sure, but not a _thing_ thing. (He blames Stefon for that verbal tic.) Stefon stuck to him the entire night. Glomming onto Seth's arm, whispering in his ear, curling himself into Seth's side when they sat on the sofa. His arm draped around Seth's shoulders and with his other hand he poked curiously at Seth's iPad. Seth opened up a few apps and demonstrated, watching as Stefon's face took on an expression of unbridled delight. He snuck more and more looks – just to catch that spark in Stefon's eyes – until he was losing abysmally at every game he tried. 

Later, Stefon was bleary-eyed and punchy and drooping even further into Seth's space. He snuggled closer, nuzzling sleepily into Seth's neck. Seth was pretty sure it was a platonic nuzzle, but that didn't stop him from feeling an odd clenching in his chest. Or from carding his fingers through Stefon's hair, without thought. Or being kind of turned on, in a lazy unrealized way. 

He feels like that now – that electricity, thumping in every heartbeat – except now he's aware of it which makes it worse. 

At one point during the fundraiser, Stefon lifted his head and looked at Seth muzzily. “What are we raising money for, again?” he asked. He sounded ditzier than usual and Seth almost laughed. 

Then he realized he had to think about it himself. “Oh,” he said after a minute. “Autism.”

“Autism,” Stefon echoed, eyebrows drawing together, as he slumped back against Seth's shoulder with a frown. “That's weird. I thought they had enough money already.” 

\---

“My bar mitzvah had _everything_ ,” Stefon tells Seth on Sunday morning, when they're getting ready to go pick up Jacob. “Hawaiian punch, my uncle Melvin, child basketball prodigy Eugene Slater...” 

“Child basketball prodigy?”

“Okay,” says Stefon, “he was just the cutest guy in my eighth-grade class. But he was really good at basketball. Promise.”

Seth pretends to consider this. “Was he cuter than me?” He's teasing, which he doesn't often do, and it makes him light-headed.

Stefon wrinkles his nose. “Ew. He was like, a _child_ then. I can't compare you two, I would get all oogly.” He wriggles his fingers in the air, shaking off imaginary water, as if to divest himself of the bad vibes. 

Seth laughs, and sidles up to him, hooking an arm around his waist. “I never knew you had a bar mitzvah,” he says, as an afterthought. 

Stefon lifts his chin airily. “There's lots you don't know about me, Seth Meyers.”

\---

81st and Broadway – Jacob lives right by Zabar's, how did Stefon know that? – and Dr. Leventhal is standing in the lobby of their building, smiling, and handing his son off to a bashful fake-news anchor whose husband is dawdling around the corner with a bag of rugelach. Jacob is wearing a suit. Seth doesn't know why he expected him not to be wearing a suit. “Hi, Jacob,” he says, and feels his face crack into the kind of smile that makes his eyes crinkle. 

Jacob looks in every direction but at Seth and then waves, his fingers stretching awkwardly in the air – exactly like Stefon's, Seth realizes suddenly. 

Seth and his podiatrist exchange pleasantries; Jacob hugs his father good-bye. They set off down the street, Seth casting nervous glances at the quiet little boy by his side. Jacob has an odd, off-kilter stride, like one of his legs is shorter than the other. Well, that's not uncommon at his age. 

Sidewalk, stoplight, Jacob bouncing as they wait for the signal to walk – and then, 80th and Broadway, Jacob yells “Stefon!” and is hurtling across the street before Seth can stop him, it's just a short distance, it's OK, Seth tells his pounding heart – and Jacob has actually thrown himself into Stefon's arms. Seth stares. Jacob took a running start and _jumped_ and now he's hugging Stefon like his life depends on it. 

“The Jewish holiday of Passover is in one week,” Seth hears Jacob say, as Stefon carefully sets him down. Stefon is grinning like he did after he managed to kiss Seth on live TV. He's been holding the bag of rugelach away from him – delicately, effeminately, Seth is pretty sure his pinky is out – so it wouldn't get crushed by Jacob's body. 

“I know,” says Stefon. “It's going to be amazing. I've never been to a _normal_ seder before. Do you have Druncles there?”

Jacob blinks at him confusedly. 

“Drunk uncles,” Stefon explains. “You know, like the one who goes on Update with Seth. We saw him backstage that one time.” 

Jacob's eyes widen and he bounces, which Seth thinks must be a way of saying yes. He gives Stefon a quiet, private smile as he approaches, and holds his hand out for the bag of rugelach. “I can take that, if you want.”

“Seth Meyers,” says Stefon eagerly, as they turn to walk down Broadway, three in a lopsided row. “Did you know Zabar's has _everything_? Sawdust, cheese, those fish that still have _eyes_ , a special on dill pickles, a baby in a stroller at the coffee counter...” 

“Yeah,” says Seth, “yeah,” and because he's feeling bold, he reaches out and intertwines his fingers with Stefon's, just a little. So it's New York. So it's 2014, 80th and Broadway, whatever. That doesn't mean it stops being hard. Seth is still trying to be kind of _discreet_ but Stefon completely grabs his hand and swings it up in the air, back and forth, and Seth thinks _Ah, fuck it._

“At the seder,” Jacob is saying, “we leave the door open for the prophet Elijah, in the hopes that he will come and visit us. Last year, a cockroach came in our door instead.”

Seth giggles, and while Jacob is preoccupied he nudges his shoulder against Stefon's in a way that means _sorry_ , and Stefon makes a trill-cum-squeak noise that means _It's all right, it's all good, it's kosher_ , and they traipse off down the avenue. The pressure in his chest has lifted. Instead there's a lightness, Seth thinks, like a balloon that just keeps expanding, and it's an incredibly stupid way to talk about happiness but hey, give him time.

**Author's Note:**

> i DON'T KNOW i thought about seth & stefon taking care of jacob and then my heart exploded
> 
> loosely thematically linked to 'the adventures of priscilla, queen of the desert'


End file.
